


Fake It Until You (Lose) It

by Breath4Soul



Category: Sherlock (TV), Sherlock Holmes & Related Fandoms
Genre: Fake/Pretend Relationship, First Kiss, Groping, It's For a Case, Johnlock - Freeform, Johnlock Fluff, Kissing, M/M, Mutually Unrequited, POV John, POV John Watson, Sherlock Being Sherlock, Sherlock is a Tease, Snogging, Unrequited Lust, Unresolved Sexual Tension
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-01-04
Updated: 2016-01-04
Packaged: 2018-05-11 20:19:47
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 888
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/5640571
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Breath4Soul/pseuds/Breath4Soul
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>John's point of view when Sherlock makes him fake it for a case - things get a bit carried away.</p><p> </p><p>  <i> Contains a bit of snogging - for a case, of course.</i></p>
            </blockquote>





	Fake It Until You (Lose) It

“Don’t ask me to do this,” I say with irritation. I am gazing up at Sherlock, his half-lidded smokey blue eyes sparkling in the dim light of the pub. He turns towards me, his hand sliding up from my wrist to rest on my forearm. His smile is almost predatory. I feel my cheeks grow hotter and wonder how I got myself into this.

“I am not _asking_ , John. I am telling you. It is _necessary_ for the case.” Sherlock continues to smile flirtatiously and ends his sentence with an oddly placed wink; apparently trying to appear as if we are having a very different conversation than the one we are actually having. 

Sherlock is leaning against the bar now, his elbows back so his fine silk shirt stretches tightly over his chest, buttons straining against the fabric. His eyes sweep up and down me with an appraising glance that is _nothing like_ his usual deductive stares. I swallow hard and resist the urge to look around for someone to confirm what I am seeing. 

“I’m sure there is another way, Sherlock,” I say trying to force on a smile as well. Sherlock looks down at his hand on my forearm. It now feels to me as if it is burning through the thin fabric of my button down shirt. He moves another step into my space, his hand sliding to my biceps and fingers curling into muscle.

His voice drops lower, “Just pretend I’m one of your lady friends.” His eyes raise slowly to my face again, gazing up from under his lashes with a very convincing ‘take-me-now’ look. “Use your imagination,” he entreats. I have to resist the urge to jump back. I blink repeatedly. 

_Yeah, that’s the problem right now._

My mouth feels desperately dry and I feel my tongue dart out to wet my lips. Sherlock smiles and purrs, “Yes, that’s more like it, John.” 

_No. No. No. No. Not playing along. Just wetting my goddamn lips. I’m so not ‘ok’ with this. I’m so not using my imagination right now._

“I need a better position, John,” Sherlock whispers through slightly pursed lips. Sherlock’s long fingers are walking up my arm and across my shoulder, before his palm flattens on my chest. I look up at his face and he smiles seductively but his eyes flick to his right. I start to turn my head towards the direction he indicated and he gives a small shake of his head, so I narrow my eyes on him. 

A slender finger brushes across my jaw. “You could at least try to look as if you’re enjoying yourself.” His voice manages to hold its usual biting exasperation in spite of the incongruous coy look painted on his face.

I try to laugh. It sounds strained. _I feel strained… in ways I’d rather not give my attention to at the moment._

“Don’t be alarmed, John,” Sherlock breathes. The almost apologetic way he says this convinces me I am about to be _very_ alarmed. 

His hand moves down to my waist, pushes me back and, turning me slightly on my stool, he slides his body between my knees so he is now pinned between me and the bar. I freeze.

“Sh-Shit,” I hear myself say. Sherlock’s fingers are twining into my hair at the base of my neck sending shudders of sensation down my spine as he holds me in place against his shoulder. 

He quickly dips his mouth to my ear. “Just shut up and put your hands on me, John. We’re supposed to be snogging.”

I realize my hands are straight out, fingers spread wide as if someone had just dropped a bomb in my lap. I quickly, and perhaps a bit too roughly, grab hold of Sherlock’s body. He lets out a little grunt.

“Sorry,” I mumble into his shoulder. 

“No… it’s - it’s _fine._ ” His words buzz across my ear. He sounds distracted and I try very hard to focus on what the suspect might be doing behind me rather than all the sensations in front of me. 

_I fail miserably._

Sherlock’s hips are against the inside of my thighs. The pressure of his body twisting against mine as his hands roam across my neck, shoulders, arms and back is making things happen inside me that are growing difficult to stifle. The familiar smell of him is filling my senses completely; mint with hints of something warm like jasper and smoke. My own hands have taken on a life of their own, gliding over the silky texture of his shirt seeking to map the lean muscles hidden beneath. My lips find the bare skin from his open collar and I let them brush across it. I am aware that his breath against my ear has changed… definitely faster, huskier, more ragged. 

_Part of his act?_

I suddenly remember our purpose and I freeze.

“Everything… _ok_?” I mumble into Sherlock’s chest. 

“Mmm,” he hums.

“Did he make the deal,” I ask. Sherlock’s hands and breath suddenly stop. He lets out a hiss like a ball deflating and sinks into me a little more. “Sherlock?”

“He left five minutes ago.”

“What?” I jerk back and look up at Sherlock. His pale face is flushed pink and his eyes look a little glazed. 

“I - I got a little _distracted._ ”

**Author's Note:**

> _JLAC2015 Prompt: "Fake it Until You Make It"_


End file.
